You ever have one of those moments, when the very idea of creativity pulls at your heart strings, catches your breath until you are fumbling about to try and plug your computer in so you can spout poetically about creativity? No? Perhaps? Well, here you go; stuck in my moment of awe.

I love the creative mind. I love that this page was blank until I put my words on it, in this order, in these lines, in this moment. I love that a group of people can get together with the knowledge of how to play an instrument and in a matter of moments or years or weeks, can put together music that didn’t exist before. That out of veritable thin air, music to move your soul can be made. That sketches of dreamers become iconic paintings, sometimes stopping us in our very tracks to bring us to tears. I love stories that change our outlooks, how we view our world around us. I love that often times, these songs, paintings, stories, moments stick to our ribs and define us. I love that creativity of others can be shared and become part of our baggage.

I have had the luxury to be inundated this past week with several moments that have moved me. And who am I not to share it with you. Take from it what you will, but mostly, take a moment to breathe in the magic of the muses that touched souls in order to bring such wonder to us in this moment.

“Some nights I stay up cashing in my bad luck
Some nights I call it a draw,
Some nights I wish that my lips could build a castle
Some nights I wish they’d just fall off.”

The book: Beautiful Ruins by Jess Walter

“But aren’t all great quests folly? El Dorado and the Fountain of Youth and the search for intelligent life in the cosmos– we know what’s out there. It’s what isn’t that truly compels us. Technology may have shrunk the epic journey to a couple of short car rides and regional jet lags– four states and twelve hundred miles traversed in an afternoon– but true quests aren’t measured in time or distance anyway, so much as in hope. There are only two good outcomes for a quest like this, the hope of the serendipitous savant– sail for Asia and stumble on America– and the hope of scarecrows and tin men: that you find out you had the thing you sought all along.”

As the snow begins to fall in my little corner of the world, I’m cuddled up with my lap top and still, it seems the world is alive and waiting for me to discover it. Take what you will from all my ‘art for the sake of art’ gushing; but doesn’t it make the world seem a little better to know that some folks out there spend their time trying to inspire rather than deflate us.